Dreams, Nightmares, and the End
by onemoretimeplz
Summary: All human. One shot. Edward is reflecting back on his 80 years of life. Sad-ish, but happy ending.


_This is only my second fanfic. I'm trying to write some stories to get myself in a writing mood, and they all keep coming out as one-shots. This one is all human and sad-ish with a happy ending. It's pretty short, so it shouldn't take long to read, which means you'll have time to review! Please review. Even if it's not nice. I want feed back to see what I need to work on. Anyway, on with the story! Enjoy!_

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I've had a good life. I have a loving family who helps me whenever I need. I have a beautiful wife who has given me our beautiful children and all of her love. I've gotten to experience everything a man could hope for. There is, however, one thing missing from my life: True love. Yes, I love my wife and children unconditionally, but I can only dream of my one true love every night when I close my eyes and drift off into my happy dreams.

I had the most perfect dream last night. In my dream, I was seventeen again, no longer in this 80 year old body riddled with arthritis and disease. My angel and I had just graduated high school, and we were finishing up the plans for our wedding. She didn't like the idea of marriage as much as I did, but she always said as long as that meant she could spend the rest of her life with me, she didn't mind the strange looks from people around us saying we were too young. I kissed her after we got our diplomas and held her all night, because two days later, we would be joined together as man and wife.

I went home and decided to just sleep late into the morning because I wasn't allowed to see my precious angel until she walks down the aisle. I was far too excited to sleep any longer, so I awoke at 6:57 with a huge smile on my face. That day passed like wind through a tunnel. Before I knew it, my father was waking me up for me to dress in my tux and head to the church.

Before I knew it, my angel was walking down the aisle toward me, all of our friends and family watching with smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. I could hardly here the pastor say anything until he turned to me and said, "Do you, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, take Isabella Marie Swan to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health?"

"I do," I eagerly replied, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. Bella and I practically skipped back down the aisle, and as we were smiling and coming through the church doors, the screen just went blank. The dream was over.

Now, as I am lying in this hospital bed, it is 6:45 in the evening. I can't keep the smile from my face when I remember the dream. I wish it could've worked out that way. Instead, my angel was taken away from me, and I haven't been as happy as I was with her.

I am terrified of falling asleep tonight. I know that I won't dream of the happiest day I could've had. I instead will dream of the darkest, most sickening day of my entire life that happened over 60 years ago, the day that made my life the saddest excuse for an existence. That was the day that Bella was ripped from my life, the day I saw her in the most excruciating pain I've ever seen anyone in. That was the day, my angel was killed by a drunk driver, the day that I was driving us to our graduation, two days before we were to be married.

I don't want to dream of that day again. I've seen it replay so many times in my mind, sleeping or awake. I want to dream of what could have been, not what was. I don't care if I don't dream about what could have been, as long as I can dream about what might come. I just refuse to dream about what happened that day 63 years ago.

As I am debating on whether I should try to sleep, I hear a knock on my door. Startled, but curious, I ask the visitor to come in. I hadn't been expecting any more visitors tonight, so I was curious as to who would be calling now. I glanced at the clock as the handle turned. 6:57 PM.

When the door opened, I thought I was hallucinating. There was my angel, beautiful and seventeen. I was immediately embarrassed by my old, decrepit body, so I lowered my eyes from hers, but when I looked down, I was the boy from 63 years ago. I stood out of bed locked my eyes with hers, and walked slowly toward Bella, afraid I might scare her away if I moved too quickly. When we reached each other, a smile appeared from those perfect lips of hers and she reached for my hand. I eagerly took it, and was going to ask how she came to me, how she feels so real, but she hushed me as soon as my mouth opened. She placed her soft hand on my cheek, and simply whispered, "It's time to go home."

With that, we stepped out of the room into the hallway, leaving 80-year-old Edward behind, and just faded into the twilight, hand-in-hand.


End file.
